


no shame in healing

by peterandhispirate



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends, Guilt, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 03:08:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18908296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: And Steve would just sigh and shake his head and say "it's not your fault, Buck," and Bucky would look down at the hands that strangled Maria Stark and silently disagree.





	no shame in healing

**Author's Note:**

> title from "snakes" by dorothea lasky
> 
> i honestly have no idea when this is supposed to take place because the mcu timeline is too complicated for my tiny peanut brain to comprehend. hope you marvel nerds enjoy it anyway

In Bucky's world, the line between being a person and being an animal had been steadily blurring for the past fifty years. Not a wild animal, but a perfectly-wired attack dog. Domesticated for carnage rather than companionship. Calculated bloodshed.  
  
Nothing more than a knife tucked in a Nazi's pocket, to be sheathed and unsheathed at will. The Nazi's will, that is. Never his own.  
  
Never his own.  
  
Then he was removed from the Nazi's pocket altogether, which was a blessing with the makings of a curse. Because how does one go back to being a person when they were functioning as a glorified war dog for the past five decades?  
  
Unfortunately for Bucky, there were no handbooks titled _How to Return to Humanity in Three Easy Steps_. He had to figure that shit out on his own.  
  
Needless to say, it wasn't an easy transition. Mainly because he was shouldering several anvils worth of guilt at all times. He'd gone from a vessel of violence to a vessel of shame, which was to be expected, really. You can't kill dozens upon dozens of people and _not_ feel bad about it.  
  
Not when you're Bucky.  
  
And Steve would just sigh and shake his head and say _it's not your fault, Buck,_ and Bucky would look down at the hands that strangled Maria Stark and silently disagree.  
  
Multiple people had told him that he didn't _need_ Tony's forgiveness. That he had nothing to be sorry for. Absolutely nothing.  
  
"It's not your fault."  
  
And maybe it wasn't. But making amends would lift at least fifty pounds from his fractured sinner's shoulders.  
  
So Bucky went to him. He asked Steve for a tour of the Avengers compound, and the captain was more than willing to oblige, oblivious to the fact that it was just a roundabout way to talk to Tony. If he was ready to talk, anyway.  
  
Maybe he'd opt to clock Bucky in the face instead. It wouldn't be the first time.  
  
_Gotta try,_ Bucky told himself while Steve led him down hall after hall, his elaborate explanations falling on deaf ears. Ears clogged with an anxious ringing that fried every nerve. _Gotta try, dammit._  
  
They didn't stumble across Tony until the very end of the tour; Bucky was beginning to think that he'd locked himself away in some room the second he passed the threshold. Disappointing, but reasonable - all things considered.  
  
And yet there Stark sat, perched on a bar stool and pointedly staring into his glass of bourbon. He looked comically small; hopelessly sad. Crooked with heartache.  
  
The ringing had swelled until it was loud enough to shatter glass and eardrums alike, but Bucky just swallowed and said, "Give me a minute, Steve. Alone."  
  
The captain looked from Tony to his best friend and back again before nodding, helpless, and backing away. Leaving him alone with the guy who wanted him dead more than anyone.  
  
Bucky approached the bar anyway, because he was nothing if not persistent. Pulling out the stool to Tony's right, he took a seat, slow and steady and a little awkward. All acts of healing were.  
  
Powerful arms resting innocently on the counter, he stole a curious glance at Tony's face, which he hadn't seen in person for quite some time. He looked older, Bucky decided. Not in a cruel way, obviously - being a superhero was bound to come with a few extra eyebags.  
  
Older, but still beautiful.  
  
"Enjoy the tour, Bionic Woman?" Tony piped up after awhile, because of course he was the first one to speak; God knows he'd be the last.  
  
Bucky was fine with that.  
  
"Impressive stuff," he said, shifting on the stool. "But that's not why I'm here."  
  
Tony snorted. Not bitter - just tired. "Figured."  
  
The anvils on Bucky's shoulders threatened to splinter his collarbone, and for the first time in his life, he felt shy. Painfully fucking shy.  
  
"Sometimes I think..." He trailed off, grimacing like he'd been shot. "Fuck, I _know_ it would've been better for everyone if I hadn't survived that fall. Better for you. Better for me. Better for all of us."  
  
A window of silence that left Bucky's chest void of oxygen. And then Tony was opening his smart mouth again. Voice uncharacteristically soft, he looked over at him and said, "This may come as a shock to you, Bucky Charms, but I disagree."  
  
Bucky looked right back at him. "Yeah? Why's that?"  
  
"I dunno yet," Tony admitted, shrugging thin shoulders and returning his focus to the shotglass that apparently had all the answers.  
  
"Thought you knew everything."  
  
"Well, I don't know _you_." Tony's words were an unexpected flowerbed of vulnerability. "Not really."  
  
Bucky's Adam's apple bobbed. "You know enough."  
  
Chest swelling and deflating like a balloon, Tony turned to look at him - _really_ look at him.  
  
"Listen," he began, careful and slow. "I'm not gonna sit here and pretend that when I look at you, I don't see the guy who killed my parents."  
  
Then it was Bucky's turn to avoid eye-contact, watching the dimmed lights glint against the stainless brutality of his left arm. The same arm that cracked Howard Stark's skull in two.  
  
When Tony continued, his voice was bordering on gentle. "But you're not that guy. And one of these days I'm gonna look at you and see... Well, I dunno what. Someone different, I guess."  
  
"A friend?" Bucky suggested after a beat of silence, and Tony cracked his signature smile.  
  
"Don't get ahead of yourself."  
  
"Okay," Bucky mumbled, and the smile seemed to be contagious. "I won't."  
  
And in an unexpected turn of events, Tony reached out to squeeze his shoulder as if it was made of skin and bone and tender things. Not metal. Not cruelty.  
  
"Let me know if you ever want an upgrade," Tony said, and with that he slid off the stool, leaving Bucky to shake his head in fond wonder.  
  
He really did feel fifty pounds lighter.

**Author's Note:**

> gay rights!


End file.
